Variety

It's the spice of life, right?  That's what they say about variety.

So I had a kind of spicy weekend, then.  Musical variety.

I met a friend in New York Friday night at a concert venue to see one of my favorite singers, Chris Wallace (he's the third selection on my "Not Afraid of Jumping" playlist ~ 4/18/13).  He's young and has had his first solo album out for about 6 months.  I like every song on it.  He's a positive upbeat person with a whole lot of energy.  I guess you'd say he's a pop singer but I'm not a big fan of categories.  His lyrics are witty and and sincere and the music is fun with strong melodies.  Afterwards he came out to take pictures with fans so we lined up (crushed up is more like it) with a small throng of people, most of whom much much younger than I.  It was great to meet him and tell him how much I enjoy his music.  He gave a wonderful performance and I hope he becomes a huge success.  His song, Invincible, will stay with me forever:

After the storm is gone
The sunlight shows you the way
Follow your heart
Let's go and dream out loud
Gotta look inside
Won't believe what you will find out

The concert was over early-ish so my friend, a New York resident, suggested we head to Birdland, the iconic jazz club where we enjoyed the 11:00 set of the band, The Yellow Jackets.  I hadn't been to hear live jazz since I last heard my brother perform in public years back.  I'd forgotten how interesting, complex and energizing live jazz is.  Sitting there and listening to the intricate solos and watching how those vastly experienced professional musicians generously supported one another reminded me of my classical musical roots too.

So today's Music at St. Peter's concert brought me full circle.  The concert this afternoon included one of my favorite choral works, Faure's Requiem.  The choir's performance was wonderful.  The soaring melodies and rich harmonies of that piece are so beautiful.  The soprano solo was sung by a young lady I've watched grow up from a tiny child.  Her maturing voice still surprises me--I'm continually amazed by how our kids are children one day and so very grown up the next.  The program today had lots of musical surprises and I'm glad I didn't miss it.

So lots of variety this weekend.  Throw in the country music that plays continually in my car, the reggae style of Michael Franti and contemporary Christian vocals of Jason Castro who accompanied me on one of my walks, and the miscellaneous artists on my favorite playlist and we've got a lot of variety. 

I'm glad I'm not stuck in one particular genre and that I enjoy listening to all types of music.  Each musician and type of music is important and fills a particular need.  I'm blessed to have this richness in my life.  I hope you have it, or something like it, too.

Chris Wallace, Push Rewind

Yellow Jackets, Tortoise and the Hare

Gabriele Faure, Pie Jesu & Agnus Dei from Requiem

St. Peter's Choir of Men and Boys (This is pretty ancient and not the choir that performed today.  My son sang in this choir from 2nd through 8th grades and has many wonderful memories of his experiences.  Why are there no recent videos of our fantastic choirs? Someone needs to work on that.)

Wanted: One Coach

I think I need a coach.  I'm not really getting the hang of this running business.  I try.  Every time I'm out there.  Especially during the first couple of miles.  But no matter what, I can't seem to run very far or very long.

So ... I think I need a coach.  And maybe a weight trainer.  And definitely a nutritionist (well I sort of have one of those but I need to talk to her more often).  

Today was a perfect day to be outside and I walked eight miles.  There was not much running after the first mile.  Which isn't to say I ran a mile.  I did not--not even close.  But after the spurts of running in the first mile, there was only walking.  Pretty fast walking but it's just walking.  Occasionally I sprint around a slower walker to get past them and I'll run until I think I'm out of their view so they'll believe they've been passed by a runner.  Fooled them! 

But I don't fool me.  The running is not coming easily at all.  I realize that it's something that a person needs to work at, just like anything else, to become good.  It's just that I have a nagging feeling I'm never going to be good at it.  That nagging feeling is holding me back.  

Today while walking I was thinking it over.  I hadn't eaten very many calories today.  My weight watcher's log showed only "4 points" by 4 PM which isn't much (that was 2 ounces of turkey at lunch and 2/3 cup fat free cottage cheese at breakfast).  There was food all day of course, but fruit and veggies are all zeros now on weight watchers.  Which means you can eat a lot of them.  And I do.  But there were no carbs today (other than the fruit) and I think I maybe needed some to sustain the running.  Hello nutritionist? Can you help me figure this out?

I also was thinking about weight training for strength.  I'm probably not as strong as I was before I gained the weight when I became a mostly sedentary person.  I should probably work out with weights to try to improve that.  Or maybe pushups ... no, definitely not doing pushups.  Hello weight trainer?  I have no clue how to do this.

So where's my coaching team?

Oh wait ... here's another thought:  I don't like running.  Really, I don't like it.  It's not enjoyable.  I need my running friends to explain the attraction.

When I'm running my head is all about the running.  You can do this.  Go to the next driveway.  You can make it to that mailbox.  Training.  Training.  Run to the telephone pole. Run to the next one.  You can do this.  It's a running dialogue (pun unavoidable) of self-encouragement.  Even that is exhausting.

When I walk, I relax.  I take in everything I see and hear.  I notice all the little changes in my neighborhood, in the parks and on the trails where I walk.  I listen to the lyrics of the music that I'm listening to and I'm not just depending on the rhythm to keep me going.  I go into an energizing revery that really feeds me.  It's a zen-like feeling and I love it.

But what is life without a good challenge?  I want to run in a local 5K.  It happens in October each year so I have a fair amount of time to improve myself at running.  I just want to do this one thing:  Finish that 5K running.  I walked it last year with a bunch of friends and that was fun.  But this year I really want to run.  I do.

But that doesn't mean I have to like it.

ReBirth Day, the Second One

The first time my world was turned upside down was when my husband left.  Plunged into single motherhood, the most challenging and rewarding assignment ever handed to me, I think I lived on a sort of treadmill for about 15 years.

In August of 2011, my world was shaken again, this time by Hurricane Irene when my river invaded my house.  That experience pushed me off the treadmill and woke me up to a new way of experiencing life.  The first rebirth day.

The latest shake-up came a year ago today when I had to get serious about my health.  Several days after an appointment with an endocrinologist to check up on a old thyroid issue, the phone call with blood test results came.  Diabetes.  Oh, and you now have multiple lesions on your thyroid.  Thus began the second rebirth and the full wake-up call.

They bring you in for a lesson so you can learn how to poke a hole in your finger and squeeze out blood for the little meter device.  It took days to master that skill.  I don't bleed very readily apparently.  Lose weight.  Eat right.  Exercise.  Hello Weight Watchers.  Hello dietician.  Hello road-worthy sneakers.

Luckily, I'm a good student and I was finally sufficiently scared by all the doctor talk to get really serious about following everyone's instructions.  Weight dropped off and keeps dropping.  Eating right and now enjoying it. Thyroid ultrasounded and biopsied.  Difficult surgery decision (keeping the thyroid for now).  Diabetes gone.  Needles done.  High blood pressure gone.  Energy up.

Through this long year with some high points and some very low points (my father died eleven months ago today), I've had the support of family, friends and coworkers who have been constantly encouraging and celebrating the little victories along the way.   I can't thank them all enough for helping me to keep focused and understanding my single-mindedness this year.  Thank you to my office mates for putting up with too many conversations about weight loss and people's reactions who hadn't seen me in a while.  It got a little embarrassing at times.  I'm so rich with an abundance of caring people in my life.  My cup runneth over.

Life is good.  I'm not afraid of jumping.

To celebrate the brand new me, a playlist of some of the music that moved me and got me moving:

Gavin DeGraw, Meaning
Andy Grammer, Lunatic
Chris Wallace, Invincible
Colbie Caillat, Think Good Thoughts
Jamie McLean Band, Peace and Glory
OneRepublic, Life in Color
Gavin DeGraw, Candy
Alicia Keys, Brand New Me
New Kids on the Block, Remix (I Like The)
Gavin DeGraw, Free

Find my playlist on YouTube:  I Hope You're Not Afraid of Jumping

Feed A Cold

Feed a cold; starve a fever.  That's how the saying goes, right?

I have a cold.  And I'm feeding it.  Pizza, cake, grilled cheese.

I have a feeling it's going to take just as long to lose the last 25 pounds as it did to lose the 100 that are already gone.  Ounces off, ounces on.  Ounces off, ounces on.  I miss ten months ago when I was losing 4 or more pounds a week and nothing ever came back on.  Oh wait, that's like saying I miss being ill, out of shape and tired all the time.  Right.  No, I don't miss that.

Time to shake it up a little I guess.  

I bought broccoli today.  For myself and not for a salad that I'm bringing to church or a crudite platter for someone else's party.  I'm going to eat the broccoli!  Myself.  Actually, over the course of this year's journey back to health I learned at the ripe old age of middle age to hang out in the produce aisle and farmer's markets first before I buy anything else.  Although, I still don't know how to prepare an artichoke but maybe someday.  I will never, however, see redeeming value in cauliflower.

I love my walking.  My facebook friends are probably sick to death of my walking posts, pictures and "musical musings of the day."  But it's probably time to add something new to the routine.  I bought yet another DVD and when this cold is done with me, I'll get down on the floor and start with some abdominal work.  I won't be happy about it.  But that's the plan.

Broccoli, ab work, more weird-looking vegetables, maybe weights.  I don't know what to wish for ... if the cold hangs around, I can ignore the broccoli and the core strengthening.  When it goes away, I'll have to get serious again.

Serious is the key.  Now that I look and, more to the point, feel better than I have in ages, it's easy to slack off.  But I have an eating issue and I'll have it forever.  There is no slacking off.  Weight comes back on just as surely as it comes off.  Staying motivated daily is my new goal.

I'm going to give this cold one more day.  I will not feed it tomorrow no matter how hungry for something cheesy or chocolate it seems to be.  And on Wednesday, I'm bringing broccoli for lunch.

Vocabulary Confessions

I passed a big milestone this week.  My 1-year fanniversary.  Yes, that's a word.  At least in the world of fangirl fandoms, it's a word.

                    fangirl n. what you might call a groupie, but that's because you don't really 
                    understand.  Audiences for Maroon 5 concerts are packed with hundreds of 
                    fangirls.

                    fangirling v. spending the evening seeing your favorite artist(s).  Tonight I will 
                    be fangirling with some of my friends at a Bruno Mars concert.

                    fandom n. all the collective fans, but not a fan club.  Justin Bieber may think he 
                    has the best fandom in all the world, but he is mistaken.

                    fanniversary n. the date on which you first became a fan.  April 3.

Okay, now that we've had our vocabulary lesson, I confess it is true:  My fanniversary is April 3.  April 3, 2012, to be exact, was the first time I saw Gavin DeGraw. Ever.  On Dancing with the Stars.  He wasn't singing because, as you know, that show is about dancing.  But I shall back up a little.  I'm not that into DWTS but just about everyone I work with is, so last spring I decided to tune in on week 2 to see what all the fuss was about.  Pro dancer + I wanna be a star is what I'd always thought of that show.  But there was Gladys Knight, who's always been a star where I come from.  And a couple of other folks I recognized.  I always loved Jack Wagner--ever since I planned my class schedule around General Hospital.  Melissa Gilbert AKA Half Pint.  So I settled in.  This was sort of entertaining.  It was okay; I wasn't bored.  Enter Gavin DeGraw.  I had no clue who he was.  Is he a wanna be, I thought?  I'd never heard of him.

But if you know me you know that I actually had been living under the proverbial rock--for about 15 or so years.  Caught up in single motherhood, double jobs, volunteer commitments, chaperoning, keeping up with home duties, driving, driving, driving ...  I'd been listening to not much on the radio since country music had departed New York 15 or so long years before.  April 3, 2012: the night I came out from under the rock.

That self-deprecating, winsome attitude.  The generosity.  Okay and that smile.  A fangirl was born without even hearing the first note out of his mouth.  And despite his less than perfect dancing.  

Order the music.  Check.  Order concert tickets.  Check.  Plan vacation time around appearances.  Check.  Join fan club.  Check (and yes, those still exist too).  Follow on Twitter.  Check.  Give up television for YouTube.  Check (well okay, not entirely).  Meet the man.  Check and double check.

As the music opened my life back up to possibility, joy came flooding back in.  

Let It Go is from the second album.  Those three words had been my goal for a decade.  Somehow I could never let the past go.  Let It Go.  Put down the guilt and shame and anger and despair and worry.  I was driving when I heard that song for the first time.  I had to pull into a parking lot, I was crying so hard.  Those three words are the most powerful words in my lexicon.

Sometimes the only way is jumping. I hope you're not afraid of heights.  That's a line from a song called Meaning.  I had been afraid of heights.  But I have jumped.  And it's okay.  Jumped into a new way of being in the world.  Jumped into the light.  Jumped at chances.  Jumping just for joy.  There is dancing at my house now.

What you want and what you need are never the same.  Boy does that resonate.  I thought I knew what I wanted but now I know what I need:  really good food, no end to the music and dancing, my friends--new and old, my family.

So this man I've met twice for a total of about 30 seconds changed me forever--or maybe it's that he helped me find me again--I haven't figured out which.  In either case, I think I'll be grateful to him forever.  I hope he never stops making music.  Ever.


Hail to the light that my baby watches me
In the darkness of the window
I can hardly get to sleep
Wish for the hour that
The nighttime soon shall pass
And the morning dew will bring us
To a day our souls can last

Love has a reason
There's a meaning to the world
We're giving love

Situation candlelight
Enough to see the bits around you
But it's never very bright
Stare at a memory
You, through the grapevine, heard the truth
It's good to learn from your mistakes
But that only works in youth

Love has a reason
There's a meaning to the world 
We're giving love

Restless minds; curtain calls follow fanfares
Troubled hearts; just a walk down the hall
Restless hearts; you take a punch just to land one
Troubled minds; it's only fair after all

Mounting, the trail, but you've got it in sight
Sometimes the only way is jumping
I hope you're not afraid of heights
Reach in my pocket for a bill that isn't there
And to face all of the undoings
Still isn't more than I can bear

Love has a reason
There's a meaning to the world
We're giving love
Giving love
Love, love
It's always been good to me
It's always been good to me

Love has reason
There's a meaning to the world
We're giving love

~Gavin DeGraw, Meaning

Oh Irene

It was a slower walk/run today than yesterday.  As I tune in to my body and trying to live more healthfully, I am learning that what I eat has a direct correlation on my workouts.  No carbs (other than fruit) today and I was very slow.  Energy was lacking.

On the other hand, slower isn't always a bad thing.  I look around and see more and enjoy my time outside.  Today there were gulls and geese, new landscaping near the river, Hurricane Sandy (10/22/12) cleanups ongoing, newly listed homes for sale, spring window displays downtown, fireplaces going (I love that smell), lots of dog walkers and miniscule peeks at the sun.

I'd intended to go for 7 miles but only got in 5.  It was really raw and windy and I could have used another layer.  Preparation is always half the battle.  I hadn't slowed down on Riverside Drive in a while so I hadn't noticed all the tiny flags from the gas company before today.  You know ... those markers the gas company puts out before you can dig in an area.  They mark where the gas lines are.  All of the homes that were abandoned or bought by the town in the FEMA buy-out after Hurricane Irene (8/28/11) have lots of little gas line markers.  This is because they will soon be a pile of rubble.

It took my breath away to realize the day that my neighborhood changes forever is almost here.  They've been talking about this for a year and I knew this day was coming.  But for it to be really here is so sad.  I look at those homes and think about the families that lived there.  Young ones and older couples.  People forced to relocate because the river overflowed into their homes one too many times.  I look at them and imagine birthday dinners and Christmas trees, kids taking their first steps and prom dates arriving, laundry, lawn mowing and laughter.  Simple lives lived in my dear sweet little neighborhood of regular folks just looking for nothing more than keeping up and enjoying what they have managed to acquire.  

My thoughts then turned to other communities devastated by natural disasters.  Ours was a blip compared to what you hear about on the news.  There are only a dozen or so houses coming down.  Statistically speaking, I suppose that's not a lot.  But when it's your backyard that will be changed forever, it doesn't really matter if it's 12 or 120.  Although it's 3 streets away and I didn't personally know these people, their stories are known to all of us.  Some have moved to different homes in the neighborhood.  Some just fled after the storm.  Some people built their homes back (one whose home slipped off it's foundation, built a beautiful, bigger house) and others couldn't face the thought of renovating only to have the next storm take it all away again.  I admit with the amount of snow melt and rain we have going on at the moment, I'm wondering if I can face the water that will inevitably invade my place in the coming month.

But what must it be like to live in a place that's completely wiped out by floodwaters or a tornado or earthquake.  How do you build back an entire town with schools, stores, houses and businesses?  How do you trust and have faith and courage to start over in the face of such disasters.  I'm in awe of the communities that do it.  Just as I'm in awe of mine.  Our disaster--albeit on a smaller scale--proved that you can face challenges and rise above them.  That hard decisions, like leaving your home behind and starting fresh, can be made and families can come through great difficulties.

I'm rambling again.  It was hard to be reminded of the reality that changes occur whether we want them to or not.  It's hard to accept that where people once lived, there will soon be catch basins for river run-off that will supposedly protect the other houses that remain along the river's banks.  Having houses disappear forever makes me feel insecure, I suppose.

Little tiny yellow flags lined up on the once well-manicured lawns of formerly well-kept homes.  Tiny symbols of surrender.  Oh Irene:  I guess you did win a few battles.

Evacuating on my street. My end of the road is just slightly higher.  This image was caught by the local paper in the hours just after the rain.

So Close

There have been a bunch of goals over the last 11 months.  Eleven months ago today I made a commitment to myself to get healthy.  The diabetes thing really scared me.  It was a major wake up call.  That diagnosis came 11 months, 1 day ago.  The first goals were to eat healthy again and to get moving for the first time since 1986 or so.  There had been very little real exercise since the kids were born even though in the years between college and kids, I was a part-time aerobics instructor (it was the heyday of aerobic dance).  Since I can be pretty determined and being motivated by visions of diabetic consequences, I buckled down and have been on course with barely a deviation for 11 solid months.

In Weight Watchers (my chosen eating program), there are built in goals. Lose 10%, lose the first 25, and more 25's after that.  It's very cute on line . . . I've been collecting little stars on my on-line graph for each goal met.

And now I'm so very close to a new star.  The 100 star.  So close that the last two weeks I've felt like the goal was achieved and yet the scale said differently.  Plateau.  The dreaded slow-down of weight loss.  The frustration maker.  Last Thursday's official weigh in lead to a couple of bad decisions in the food department over the weekend.  That was followed by a severe round of guilt.

Guilt gets  you nowhere.  Trust me.  Guilt got me diabetes.  I ate guilt.  Guilty feelings from the failed marriage, from wondering if I was/am a good enough mom, from never feeling as though I accomplished enough at work (or the other work, or the volunteer work), from procrastinating, from not having all the photos in scrapbooks, from buying a piano but not practicing.  I'm very well acquainted with guilt.

So after a little backsliding this weekend (curse you Irish soda bread) and the attendant self loathing, I straightened myself out.  Two great workouts and a fabulous dinner tonight and I'm feeling good about this week.  It could happen this week.  But even if it doesn't, I still can know I'm learning to cope.  Backsliding for two meals is a hell of a lot better than backsliding for, say, two years.  New me is able to bounce back.  

That has to count for something too.

The new fast food:
Top one whole wheat flatbread with fresh tomato slices, low fat shredded mozzarella (I use Weight Watchers 4 cheese Italian blend), calamata olive slices, shaved asparagus and grilled shrimp.  Salt, pepper, whatever herbs are on hand.  Bake until cheese is bubbly and tomato is heated through.  One flatbread makes two servings.